Fifty bucks an hour

Sometimes I make fun of primary because the stories all so simple they give a black and white picture of the world.  I've heard things like:

"Sammy found a cigarette.  Do you think it would be good to smoke it?"

"Alex stole a dollar from a friends desk.  Was that an ok thing to do?"

"Terry broke a lamp. Terry's mother asked who did it.  What is the right response?"

Oh please, like there isn't a three year old on Earth that wouldn't know what answer they're supposed to give.  Then as we grow older we find the story is so much more complicated.  Maybe Sammy has cried himself to sleep each day for lack of friends.  Maybe Alex's friend stole the dollar first.  Maybe Terry lives in an abusive home.  Suddenly what used to be a simple answer is harder.

Then sometimes I find myself in a situation that sounds like it came straight out of a primary book, and I think "This really happens in real life?"  Like the time I was approached by a lady I will call Mary.

Mary was a student at SUU while I worked there in the math tutoring lab.  She was non-traditional since she was about 40 years old.  She had just recently left her abusive husband and was struggling to go to school so that she could find a better job to support her two young children.  I often saw her in the math lab and found her to be hard working, dedicated and resourceful.

One day as I came in to work I found her waiting in the lobby outside the tutoring center.  She approached me and said, "Scott, I've fallen behind in math class.  There are several assignments due this week, and I just don't the time to do them.  I'll pay you 50 bucks to finish the assignments for me.  I know this probably isn't the kind of thing you feel is right, I'm LDS too, but this class is a prerequisite to many other classes, and I won't pass without these assignments being done.  I'm guessing it'll take you about an hour to finish it.  I've got to pass, and I'm desperate and out of options.  I don't want someone to help me do it, I just want it done. Please tell me you'll do it for me."

As I try to remember my exact thought, I realize I had several all at the same time. 
"Wow - this is so classic temptation!  Even she admits this is not right."
"I so do not want to tell her I won't help her.  Why should I have to be the bad guy here?"
"Would it really be so wrong to help a lady who is struggling so hard to survive?"
"If I say no that will probably end my relationship with this student"
"She's right.  An hour tops.  Fifty bucks an hour... that's awesome!"
"I could always claim innocence.  Or maybe I'll just admit I'm not perfect"
"If I accept something that is so clearly wrong there may never be a wall of what I wouldn't do given the right circumstances"

My heart was breaking for this poor woman, but years of cheesy primary questions have been burned into my psyche.  My very first response was "Mary, there's no way I can do your homework.  That's cheating, and we both know it's wrong.  If you want to schedule extra tutoring time I'll clear my schedule tonight, for you I'll even stay here for free, no charge until it's done, but I will not do your homework for you."

My response was automatic, just saying what I probably would have said if a primary teacher had asked me.  After it was out I was a little surprised by how bold and direct it was.  In hindsight I wonder if the boldness was partly to convince myself.  She sighed, nodded, looked down, and in a low voice said, "One hundred bucks"

"No Mary, I can't."  She looked up.  "Five hundred bucks.  That's all I can offer."

Now it felt different.  She had made up her mind, and had justified it to whatever level she needed to pull out all the stops.  Maybe those primary questions are so blatent because when they hit they represent crossroads that will change our lives.  I said, "Mary, it doesn't matter how much money you offer.  I will not do your homework for me."  In my mind I'm remembering the 9th commandment from primary: Thou shalt not bear false witness (Exodus 20:16)

In anger she mumbled something about why couldn't I help when she needed it most.  I was hurt, and I started to wonder if I had made the right choice.  Then as I walked into the lab and faced the other math tutors and looked my boss in the eye I knew I done the right thing, and I would never regret it.

That evening the tutors had our weekly meeting, and I mentioned that a student had offered to pay me to complete their homework.  To our surprise we discovered that after me she had gone to each tutor and asked them privately to do her homework.  How proud I was of our group when we learned that no one had accepted her offer.  The last tutor was offered $1000 to finish the homework.  Each one of us said that we would not accept such an offer, and although not all the tutors were LDS, our testimonies of integrity were bolstered.

We checked, and her homework was never completed; she repeated the class the next semester.  I noticed she continued her schooling and graduated.  Sadly our friendship was never as strong.  Since then I have been in academia for years, and taught my own classes.  I know now how damaging it is to a student to let them believe there are short cuts to learning.  I believe we did what was best for her in the long run. 

I know for certain I did what was right.  Isaiah said "For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little:" (Isaiah 28:10).  Imagine if I had made the wrong choice - from there on my spiritual growth would have been at a lower level.  I cannot attain a higher level until I am in control of simpler temptations.

I give thanks to all my primary teachers who spent years asking silly questions that had obvious answers.  Would I have made the right choice without primary?  I like to think so, but it certainly helped.  When I had many different thoughts going through my head the morality meter installed as a young child won out. To all those who currently serve in the primary, keep going!  The things that you teach may have such a small effect today that you won't notice, but years later adults like me will write about making the right decision.